Martin got out of the carriage, the bright morning sun already hot. As he suspected, he did not get nearly as much sleep as he wanted to, but it was enough. Nathaniel stayed long enough to make sure Martin was settled, which included sharing a large dinner with him, as Martin hadn’t eaten anything since Sara slapped him. He hadn’t realized how rattled he had been all of yesterday. He still wasn’t back to himself, but he was better as he walked up to Navir. They were on a raised platform with four chairs at the edge, and a post on the other side. A crowd had already gathered, comprised all of men. With the severity of the lashing, no woman, child, or youth of apprentice age was allowed. Those who came understood they were going to watch a man get whipped to death.
“Did you even stop to consider the political ramifications of your actions?” Martin asked.
Navir didn’t bother looking at him as he watched the guards test the strength of the beam on the platform. “Sleep well, Martin?”
“This is not how you are supposed to run a country,” Martin said.
“We need to quell any sort of rebellion amongst our midst,” Navir said.
“And what’s stopping this rebellion from multiplying?” Martin said.
“The people wouldn’t dare.”
“I’m talking about myself,” Martin said.
It was then that Navir finally tore his gaze from the beam to face Martin. “Pardon?”
“You know my son is going to stop this. You were planning on it. There’s a second hook on the beam.”
“It’s just the one they chose,” Navir said.
“There’s a second whip man,” Martin growled. Navir said nothing to that. “You may have won this round, but I will not forget it.”
Navir chuckled. “Ah, where’s your talk of mercy and compassion now?”
“It will be a mercy for the people to stop you. Of that I have no doubt,” Martin said.
“And you will undoubtably fall with me. But I will make sure it’s you who is ended first,” Navir said. Martin had little to say about that. Last night he wasn’t thinking straight, and when he burned the book, he acted in a panic. Once again, he found himself back in Navir’s blackmailing grasp. Navir brushed him away. “The prisoner approaches. Let us begin.”
Martin glared but sat in his seat at the edge of the platform. He looked out among the crowd and saw Nathaniel, his arms folded, staring at nothing.
Tolomon was taken out of the carriage. Two guards were on either side of him as a third was behind with his sword out, ready for anything. Tolomon’s face was unreadable as he walked up and was forced to his knees in front of the High Elders.
There was a movement and Martin turned to see Rosa approaching Nathaniel. Martin’s heart stopped. Nathaniel looked at her, concerned, talking with her quietly. Rosa said something else, both of them too far away for Martin to know what they were saying.
“Tolomon the Graduate of the Common Class, do you have anything to say before we begin?” Navir asked.
“I have nothing to say, sir,” Tolomon said as Nathaniel finished his conversation with Rosa, though it didn’t look like she was done. Dalius was writing down notes on the small desk in front of him.
“You have been found guilty of insulting the Acting Senior High Elder of God’s Holy Church. Because of such rebellious actions, your titles will be revoked, and you will receive fifty lashes. Once your lashings are done, you will report to Reynaldo, and he will decide your fate. Is there anything you’d like to say on your behalf?”
“Nothing, sir,” Tolomon said.
“Does anyone here object?” Navir asked.
“I do,” Nathaniel said.
“Approach the platform and state your name and title,” Navir said.
Nathaniel glared as he walked over to the High Elders before giving a stiff bow. “Captain Nathaniel, son of Martin the Healer and Sara.” He rose from his bow. “Congratulations, Navir. You got what you wanted.”
Navir had the smallest smile on his face. “I am simply punishing a commoner for insulting me.”
“Tolomon calls everyone an ass at some point,” Nathaniel said.
“He called me a repugnant son of a bitch.”
The crowd reacted, whispering to each other as they heard the harsh language. Nathaniel paused, his head swaying back ever so slightly as though the words themselves pushed him back, but then he worked far too hard to not smile. Navir glared. “Seems fitting, then, that I feel his punishment is too harsh, as I find myself sympathizing with the commoner’s thoughts.”
Tolomon chuckled as the crowd gasped at Nathaniel’s reply.
Navir’s glare darkened as Dalius continued to jot down the notes. Navir turned his glare to Dalius who, when finished, glanced up and was surprised to see Navir glaring at him.
“Would… you like me to… strike that from the record?” Dalius asked.
Navir’s nostrils flared but turned his attention back to Nathaniel. “You have evoked the right you hold with your noble title. Which would you like to take, the stripping of his titles? Or take on his lashings?”
“I’ll take Tolomon’s lashings,” Nathaniel said.
“The commoner has a choice whether to split the punishment or to walk away and have the nobleman take it all. What is your choice, commoner?” Navir asked.
“I’ll split the lashings,” Tolomon said.
“And as Tolomon will keep his titles, there is no reason for him to meet with Reynaldo,” Nathaniel said.
“Of course. Let’s hope he’s learned this little lesson about insulting the honor of the High Elders. I doubt either one of you could handle another twenty-five lashes so soon. As per the nobleman’s request, the titles shall remain for both men, and as the commoner requests, the punishment shall be split, twenty-five lashes each.” The guards grabbed Nathaniel, taking off his jacket before forcing him to kneel next to Tolomon. “Does anyone object?”
Rosa appeared out of nowhere, heading straight for Navir, her eyes blazed in anger. “I evoke the right of-”
“NO!” Tolomon and Nathaniel shouted, drowning her out.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“It’s my right to-”
Martin sprang to his feet, grabbing Rosa around the waist before pinning his hand over her mouth. She tried to fight it off.
“Martin?” Navir asked.
He started to drag Rosa away. “As Rosa’s father through marriage, I proclaim she has nothing more to say. Continue with the sentence.” Rosa was trying to tear Martin’s hand away, but he kept it over her mouth. “Don’t, Rosa. It will be worse if you join. I cannot have you so beaten and humiliated in front of everyone. Nathaniel forgives too easily, but I guarantee he would never forgive me if I didn’t stop you.”
Navir stood. “Then it is agreed Captain Nathaniel, son of Martin the Healer and Sara, along with Tolomon the Graduate of the common class shall keep their titles, and each split the lashings. Twenty-five for each man. Get them prepared.”
The guards stood Nathaniel and Tolomon up, cutting their shirts off before placing Nathaniel’s wrists in irons. Rosa tore Martin’s hand from her mouth, glaring at him. “I could have made it sixteen. They could have handled sixteen lashings.”
“Could you have handled sixteen?” Martin asked.
“I don’t care.” She started to cry. “I just know I can’t do this much longer.”
“Go, Rosa. Get back home,” Nathaniel said over his shoulder as the guards grabbed them, forcing them over to the beam. The whips were brought out, the multi roped whip with metal and glass weaved into it.
“No,” Rosa gasped, starting toward them again before Martin grabbed her wrist to keep her in place, feeding her with power to keep her anxiety at bay.
“Do what Nathaniel said. You shouldn’t even be here,” Martin said, an urgency in his voice.
“This isn’t fair. High Elder Navir can’t do this,” Rosa said, still panicking.
“Whoever passes out first buys the other a drink when this is done,” Nathaniel said as the guards grabbed their irons and placed them on the two hooks that were already prepared.
Tolomon gave a hard laugh. “Seriously, nobleman? You want to gamble something like that against me?”
“I’m reckless enough, commoner,” Nathaniel said.
Rosa shuddered, and Martin physically grabbed her again and moved her over to a guard. “I need you to take this woman to my study in the Cathedral, get her some calming tea. She is not allowed to be present. Rosa, stay there. I will come see you when it’s done. Alright?”
Rosa didn’t answer. She was in a state of shock.
“I’ll be the one carrying your unconscious body down to the dungeon. When’s the last time you got a whipping?” Tolomon asked. Nathaniel said nothing. Tolomon’s face dropped. “Are you serious?”
The whips came down hard and Nathaniel was the only one that buckled under the pressure, groaning. Rosa screamed, covering her mouth.
“To my study,” Martin said, pointing toward the Cathedral. “Take her now. Go!”
The second whip came down as the guard took Rosa’s elbows and led her away. She was gasping, trying to say something, but nothing came from her mouth.
“You soft noble. You soft, stupid noble,” Tolomon shouted.
Nathaniel’s breathing was labored. “Noble code insists-” he was cut off by the third lashing coming down hard.
“Oh, enough about that insufferable code,” Tolomon said as the guard helped Rosa into the carriage before it drove away.
“That insufferable code is keeping you from fifty lashes, commoner,” Nathaniel snapped before the fourth lash came down.
“I could handle fifty lashes a lot better than you can handle twenty-five, you soft noble,” Tolomon said, gripping the pole.
Martin stumbled back into his chair, a ringing in his ears as the whip came down again. Nausea growing inside him.
“I’ve had walks across the gardens that have hurt worse than this,” Nathaniel said, breathless, glaring at the pole as the whip came down again.
“You need to fire your gardeners,” Tolomon said.
“Looking for a new job?” Nathaniel was gasping for air more than he was talking.
A large chunk of flesh came off Nathaniel’s back and Martin closed his eyes, turning away. He covered his mouth, sick with fear, starting to lose count how many lashings they had. They came, one right after another, punctuated by Nathaniel’s screams as Tolomon kept him talking.
“We’re not even halfway done yet!” Tolomon shouted.
“Sixty more to go, right?” Nathaniel asked before he let out a scream as the whip came down again.
“That’s right, nobleman. What kind of military man are you? How have you never been whipped?” Tolomon asked.
“I’m a son of a High Elder.” Another whip came down. Blood soaked Martin’s shoes and the hem of his robes, but he kept his eyes closed as tight as possible. “They don’t whip men like-” That horrible whip came down again. They had to be over halfway done now. They had to be nearing the end. Tears streamed down Martin’s cheeks, and he fought against his paternal need to stop it while at the same time hating himself for not being able to. He dug his fingernails deeper into the armrest of his chair, burning with a dangerous hatred for Navir. Something ignited deep in his soul, and something told him his eyes were flickering black.
Nathaniel tried to control his breathing as Martin did everything in his power to keep the corruption out of his soul.
“Get up nobleman!” Tolomon shouted. “Get up before you tear the joints in your arms! They won’t heal that either! Get up!”
Nathaniel let out a scream when the next lashing hit before channeling his scream into speech as he got to his feet. “I’m not saving you next time, commoner!”
“I never needed you to save me in the first place, nobleman!” Tolomon shouted.
Martin opened his eyes enough to see Tolomon doing his best to grab Nathaniel’s irons and hold him up, helping him brace against the pole. There was clear worry on Tolomon’s face, even if his words said something else. There was no color at all in Nathaniel’s face.
“I’m going to drain every last drop of your money choosing my drink, you hear me nobleman?” Tolomon shouted.
Nathaniel stumbled dangerously at the next whip crack, and Tolomon grabbed his irons, trying to get to his hands. “Do you hear me, nobleman!” The whip came down again, and Nathaniel’s head dropped forward. “Nathaniel!” Tolomon shouted. “Wake up!”
It was the fear that finally broke from Tolomon’s voice, a man who could control his emotions like no one else could, that made Martin realize his son was close to death. He never got whipped before in his life, and now his body was going through twenty-five lashes that would leave his back a matted mess.
“I am,” Nathaniel said, again barely able to speak. The whip came down again. “I am,” he said even quieter.
“Do you know how embarrassing this is? A commoner taking this better than a nobleman?” Tolomon asked.
“You are better,” Nathaniel mumbled before the whip hit them again. There was blood coming from Nathaniel’s mouth.
“You stay awake, nobleman. You stay awake, you stay aware. You still have another thing to protect me from after this is done.”
“What?” Nathaniel asked, barely conscious as another whip came down.
“Damn you! I need you to protect me from Rosa!” Tolomon winced as the whip came down again. “Do you have any idea what she’ll do to me after this? She’ll never forgive me! Get up, nobleman! Get up!” Nathaniel looked over at Tolomon, barely any strength left. “Talk to me nobleman!”
The whip barely touched Nathaniel’s back before he collapsed, his eyes closed, the irons the only thing holding him up.
“Nathaniel!” Tolomon shouted.
He didn’t respond. Martin couldn’t breathe, tears in his eyes. Two more lashings came down before they moved away. Chunks of flesh scattered around the two men, blood pouring down their backs. The guards took away their whips as other guards quickly unhooked their irons from the pole. Nathaniel collapsed to the ground in a heap. Tolomon dropped to his knees, flipping Nathaniel to his stomach to keep his back from getting touched.
Navir stood, a dark look about his face. “This portion of the sentencing is done. They will spend the night in the dungeons.” He turned, glaring at Martin, oblivious to the hate and tears Martin had on his own face. “Anyone caught using healing power on these two men will receive the same punishment, as well as these two men getting whipped again.” Navir turned his glare at Tolomon, who was kneeling next to Nathaniel. “I expect this incident will help you remember your place, Graduate of the common class.” Although Tolomon was a master at hiding his emotions, the man let Navir see how much he detested him.
Martin stared at the blood-soaked platform, saw it soaking his white robes. His chest felt hollow as he forced himself to his feet, stumbling over to the two of them. Tolomon took a hold of Nathaniel’s hand. “Squeeze if you can hear me.” Tolomon held his palm open for Nathaniel to react. His fingers remained limp. There were tears in Tolomon’s eyes. “It’s done. The whipping is done.”
Martin knelt next to Nathaniel, placing his fingers against his temples. His body was in deep pain, and Martin kept himself from instinctually healing the lashings. He fed more power to the brain to help jumpstart his son’s own healing power, which was all he could do.
His son was torn from his grasp, prematurely cutting off the healing powers. “Easy when you take him to the dungeon,” Martin said to the guards, his voice full of pain. The guards eased him into the carriage. “He’ll live,” Martin said to Tolomon.
Tolomon nodded, tears falling from his eyes. “I know. He’s stubborn like that.”
Martin couldn’t smile. He simply watched as guards lifted Tolomon up, leading him into the carriage to take them to the dungeon.
Martin got to his feet, the lower half of his robes smudged in blood and flesh. The smell hit him all at once, and he almost vomited. But he held on to one simple truth.
Navir said no healing power could be used, but he said nothing about tree power. Navir was trying to keep Martin from healing his son, but he would have to sell his soul to the devil himself in order to stop Sara.